


Behave Yourself, Sweetheart

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark John Winchester, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Face Slapping, Female Sam Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Parent/Child Incest, Rape, Soft Dean Winchester, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dean gets hurt on a hunt. Sam gets angry at John, blaming him. But John knows who's at fault here. After all, who's the one who refused to come on the hunt in favor of homework. Pissed off and drunk, John puts Sam in her place.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comments will be moderated. No flames. If this isn't your thing, exit now.

"Shut up," John hissed, pressing a hand over Sam's mouth and muffling her. "It's your fault he's like this in the first place."

Sam whimpered and struggled fruitlessly, her small thirteen year old body not strong enough to throw him off.

Somewhere in the back of his alcohol-dazed mind, John knew what he was doing was wrong. But he was drunk, angry, out of his mind with worry for Dean- and Sam had been her usual bratty self, mouthing off and demanding to know why John hadn't looked after Dean better. So, he'd done the one only thing he could think of: thrown her to the bed and squeezed her throat once, in warning. 

"It's your fault he's hurt," John growled in her ear. "You were too busy with school and homework and fucking _football_ to come on the hunt. And now look at him!"

He found a grip on her chin, forcing her to face the other bed. Dean was out cold, shoulder wrapped up in bandages, after a few pain meds.

Sam shook beneath him and, not so surprisingly, John felt his cock swell. It had been so long since he'd had a warm body beneath him. And Sam might just learn how to behave if he punished her once. Banning her from the debate club, forcing her to wake up early for practice- stuff that worked with Dean didn't have much effect on Sam. Maybe a ruthless fuck would. 

Sam, barely a teen and too smart for her own good, seemed to realize his intentions almost before he'd made up his mind. Her struggles renewed, eyes wide in panic and disbelief as he reached a hand down to shove her cotton shorts down her legs, then her simple underwear, leaving her pussy exposed, barely covered by a smattering of soft curls.

"Don't fight it, Sammy," John said, wetting his finger quickly. "Or it'll just hurt more." That was all the warning she got before he was working a finger into her. 

Sam's whine of pain was muffled by his hand. She seemed to be pleading. 

John just pushed another finger into her. She was tight, virgin-tight, and he had to focus to scissor her open, all the while pressing his weight onto her, keep her from thrashing. 

"What's that, Sam?" He asked in a whisper. "Want me to stop?"

She nodded frantically, eyes wide and watery, breath fast and shallow. 

John leaned down to bite her jaw, careful not to leave a mark. "Maybe after I've made sure you've learned some obedience. Then I'll stop."

Sam's sobs were broken. And John couldn't muster up any regret. He added a third finger into her, reveling in the way her walls clenched. His own cock was throbbing and would need attention soon. 

Bending down again, he whispered to Sam. "I'm gonna take my hand away. To get my pants off. You're gonna do the same with this top of yours, 'kay? And don't make a sound." He pressed a kiss to her throat, almost gentle but for the threatening scrape of his teeth. "You don't want Dean to wake up and see his sweet little sister like this, do you?"

Sam just nodded slowly, obviously having come to terms with her helplessness for now. Fingers shaking, she lifted her top off, carefully dropping it to the floor. John stroked his dick, staring at her. He took in the arch of her torso, her small breasts, her tear-streaked face and trembling chin, the knuckles twisted bone-white into the cheap bedsheets. Her pussy was glistening with slick and pre-cum, her thighs forced apart and quivering. 

For a second, John wanted to feel her around his member, wanting to fill her up with his seed. He didn't. With five sharp strokes, he painted her tanned chest and stomach with white streaks of his cum, a half-groan half-sigh of relief escaping him.

Sam let out a strangled gasp, as John dropped over her, covering her with his own body. She really did seem fragile like this, small and weak under him, nothing like the hunter she was going to grow to be. 

"This coulda been a lot worse, Sam," John murmured, alcohol and carnal release making him drowsy as he spread the splatters of cum over her skin. "I coulda done a lot worse to you. Remember that next time you wanna mouth off to me, yeah? Every time you wanna be a brat, remember that I'll do worse, keep doing worse until you're nothing more than yer daddy's slut. Ya get me?"

He waited for Sam to nod, the only sound in the room her hitched breathing. Then he rolled off her, shoving at her lightly. "Go get cleaned up and go to sleep. Make sure there's nothing that'll make Dean suspicious tomorrow."

He was asleep before Sam had managed to balance on her weak, shaky legs. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed changing tags, yes?

"Sam's missing."

John will admit that his first reaction to hearing those words from Dean were fear. Just plain terror. Yes, he'd used his daughter's body several times over the years, even when it wasn't really punishment but a way for him to relieve some stress. And yes, he'd probably hurt her more often than not but it was never more than she deserved. She was still his daughter, his and Mary's, and John loved her. 

Then, he realised that Sam hadn't been taken, but had run away. And the fear fell away into harsh, hot rage. 

Right now, in a rundown shack in Flagstaff, he stared down at his daughter, who glared defiantly back. 

"Dean thought you were kidnapped," was all he said. 

Immediately, Sam flinched, eyes dropping away. "I was going to come back after a few days," she muttered. 

John shook his head. "How many times, Sam?" He asked. "How many times do I need to punish you to make you understand that this family is not something you can abandon?"

Sam grit her teeth, eyes flashing as anger took over. "Maybe if you didn't ' _punish_ ' me that way, I wouldn't have to run."

John narrowed his eyes at her. That fighting spirit was all well and good on a hunt. But the impudence and disobedience was exactly what needed to be gotten rid of here. 

"Get rid of your clothes, Sam."

Sam's eyes narrowed too. "No."

John tilted his head. "Then I'll leave you here. And tell Dean that you don't want to ever come back. Who knows how he'll react to that."

Sam stiffened. "Leave him out of this," she hissed. 

John waited. 

Sam closed her eyes. With trembling hands, she slipped off every item of clothing she had on, in quick and efficient movements like she wanted to get it over with, until she stood in front of him with every inch of her skin on display. 

John palmed his cock through his jeans, almost lazy as he removed it from its confines, staring at Sam the whole time. At fifteen, she had just started gaining height, eye level to his chest now. A few years more and she would probably be as tall as him. Right now though, she was coltish and awkward, and still the prettiest darn thing in their lives. 

Sam was starting to fidget, breath shallow from humiliation. "Well?" She sounded bitter. "Get on with it then. Haven't got all-"

The sound of John's palm striking her face was loud, sharp. Sam looked shocked, cradling her cheek. He'd never struck her before. Anger added to the embarrassment and the red flush spread down her neck and upper chest. 

"Talk without a good reason and that'll happen again," John said coolly. "Sit on the bed."

For a second, she looked ready to argue. Then she walked backwards, unwilling to turn her back to him, and perched on the edge of the bed. 

John was hard now. Probably messed up, he knew, that the sight of his daughter's skin turned red from a slap got him aroused. But he found he didn't really care about that. 

Standing in front of Sam, he stared down at her. "Use your mouth."

Sam's jaw clenched. With a few deep breaths, she leaned forward, lips sealing over the head of his cock, tongue sliding up and under, over the thick vein. John fought back a groan at the suction, at the warm haven of Sam's mouth. 

A quick look showed that Sam's eyes were screwed shut, her jaw trembling, whether from anger, grief, or the strain of fighting back her gag reflex.

Well... This was supposed to be punishment after all. He gripped her hair, tugging at the strands with no pretense at gentleness. She gasped around his cock, the roughness causing her eyes to fly open. They were dark, fixed on him with tears shining in them as he thrust forward twice, fucking her throat sharply. 

Then he pulled her off him, shoving her back onto the mattress. He climbed in and, without giving her a chance to balance herself, pulled her into his lap. His cock was slick with saliva and precum, and that would have to be enough. In one quick movement, he pulled Sam down on his cock. 

Sam screamed and John muffled it with a hand over her mouth. "Don't you make a sound, you little whore," he growled, biting her bony shoulder. He rocked slightly, forcing her to ride him. "I warned you that very first time, didn't I?"

Sam struggled weakly. John squeezed around her throat, making her choke on her own muffled protests. "This is all you are, Sam," he told her. "My soldier. My daughter. My whore." He slid a hand down to her breasts, twisting a nipple just hard enough to hurt. "And Dean's dirty little sister, of course."

Her eyes went wide, scared. Her walls clenched involuntarily around him and he groaned. 

But he grinned through it. "You think I don't see it, Sammy?" He purred, canting his hips upwards. "I can see the way you look at him, like you want him to look back. What, you think he can save you from this?" He wound an arm around her back, dragging a finger over her rim, before pushing in. 

She squirmed, but there was nowhere for her to go. He pushed his finger in. 

"You think he might want you like this? Want to see you panting and flushed, fucked out and covered in someone else's cum, all your holes loose, not even fighting back because you know-" He hissed the words straight into her ear. "-you know, you deserve this. You think Dean would like to see his sweet innocent Sammy all used up and still desperate for her big brother? Maybe I should tell him, huh? Let him see what you and I get up to? Do you think he'd pity you and give you what you want or just throw you to the wolves like a slut?"

The words worked their charm: Sam slumped, all the fight leaving her. John pulled out in time, spilling his release all over her stomach and thighs, mixing with her own. 

John breathed harshly, but he smoothed a hand over Sam's head. She was shaking, tears streaming down her face.

"Don't ever do something like this again," he said to her, almost soft. "Something could happen to you and then where would we be, huh?"

Sam didn't reply, too exhausted- emotionally and physically- to do much of anything. John took advantage of her uncharacteristic compliance by gently laying her out on the bed. "You know Dean would never do this for you," he whispered. "Even if he did, it wouldn't be because he wanted to. But because you did, and he'd do anything for you. But he wouldn't really want you."

Sam turned her head away. 

John sighed. "I'll pack for you," he told her. "Take a shower and get cleaned."

* * *

Dean was pacing the room restlessly when he heard the Impala. It took everything in him not to rush out and wait instead. 

A few minutes later, the door opened and Sam walked in slowly. She stopped in front of Dean, shame-faced and shaking. 

Dean exhaled loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "Are you okay?" He asked. His voice sounded too rough. 

Sam nodded, not really meeting his eyes. 

Dean itched to reach out and hold her. "Where's Dad?"

"Said he's going to a bar," Sam mumbled. 

Dean nodded to himself. "You wanna, uh..." He cleared his throat. "You wanna change? Get some sleep?"

Sam nodded again. Dean just heaved a sigh, trying to quell the myriad of emotions in his chest. 

Ten minutes later, Dean surprised himself by sliding into the same bed as Sam, wounding an arm around her waist from behind. "What happenned to your neck?" He asked, seeing the light bruises around her throat. "Fuck, did dad hurt you?!" The words were out before Dean could stop them. 

Sam stiffened for a moment. "No," she said eventually. "Just... Got into a tussle. Some guy at a truck stop got grabby."

Dean closed his eyes. "Don't do that again," he begged. "Sammy, please... You can't do that to me again."

Sam shifted and when Dean opened his eyes, she was looking up at him. His heart jumped at the darkness in her gaze. She was so close, he could see each individual lash, and he could feel her breath on his lips and if he tilted forward just the slightest bit, he'd be able to taste her... 

"Okay," Sam whispered, breaking him out of his thoughts. "I promise. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean swallowed. "You took meds for that?" He nodded at her injured throat. 

Sam nodded, eyes already slipping close. She fell asleep quick, hands curled into fists on his chest, nose tucked into his neck. 

Dean stayed awake, still holding her close, breathing her in. At some point, his hand slipped beneath her thin t-shirt, the skin of her back soft under his touch. 

Sam stirred, but leaned into his touch. 

Dean hesitated. He was struck with the sudden need to feel Sam properly, to make sure she really was okay, to feel that warm softness.

_She took meds_ , he remembered. _She won't wake._

Hesitantly, he lifted the hem of her t-shirt, rucking it up until he could feel the scar on her sternum, the one she'd gotten from a skinwalker. Dean tore his eyes away from Sam's face, focusing on her body instead. He stroked along the scar, over her ribs, under her breasts.

When Sam shivered slightly, he gently extricated himself from her hold and put her on her back. Hovering over her now, his eyes adjusted to the darkness until he could see the bruises on her hips, the redness of her nipples. 

Dean choked back a gasp, all the pieces suddenly falling into place. Without thinking, he leaned down to press a kiss to the sharp jut of Sam's hipbone, hands instinctively and protectively palming her breasts and massaging softly. "I'm gonna take care of you," Dean whispered the words into her skin. "I'm gonna take care of you, make sure no else ever touches you without permission."

In her sleep, Sam moaned unconsciously, hands clenching and unclenching. Dean looked at her face, sleeping and peaceful and trusting of her big brother, and felt a sudden rush of affection for her, that temporarily overrode the desire.

Eager to hear that sound again, Dean climbed back up her thin form, gently sucking on her lower lip. Sam didn't respond except for the parting of her lips and Dean took the offer gladly, licking into her mouth. His hand wandered down her sides, lower and lower until he was sliding it into her sweatpants, cupping the heat of her core and making her arch into him... 

The sound of the Impala sent a jolt of anger and fear through him. There was no mistaking it: Dad had been the one to hurt Sam. It explained so much- Sam's fearful rebellion, her running away. Even the bruises, because Sam was strong and trained enough to take down any regular trucker. 

Quickly, Dean arranged them so he was again simply spooned around Sam, her t-shirt and sweats straightened, the covers drawn over them. 

Just in time, as Dad- _John_ opened the door, stumbling in, the stench of alcohol clear even across the small distance. 

Dean forced himself to keep still, to tamp his anger down, when John stopped by their bed. Too drunk to notice Dean was awake, the older man stared down at his children, curled around each other in a way that made him seethe. But there was nothing he could do about it right now, and he staggered to the other bed. 

Dean lay awake for quite some time though, occasionally kissing Sam's face or brushing his thumb over her nipples. 

_3 years_ , he promised himself. As soon as Sam turned 17, he was taking her far away from here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know you asked for Dean to join in, but I am pathologically incapable of writing a non-con wincest. Sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Chapter 3

John wasn't sure when or why, but something had changed. Something in Dean. He'd always been protective of Sam, but now he barely took his eyes off her, let alone leave her side. If they were standing more than a foot apart, he'd close the distance, slinging a protective arm over her shoulder that Sam would lean into. He was reluctant to even leave her alone at the motel and even when he did, he'd always return with a look of concern and suspicion. 

A part of John wondered if Dean had found out about Sam's punishments. Another part wondered if maybe he'd been wrong about Sam's feelings being unrequited and Dean actually did want her that way. Sometimes, he feared it was both. 

But either way, that didn't give Dean the excuse to talk back to John like this. Whatever else he was- a monster, an abuser- he was still their father. 

"I've already said _no_ , Dean, don't test me."

"It's just a simple salt n' burn!" Dean argued. "Sam needs the practice, let her come with me! You're the one who's always telling her to-"

"And I'm the one saying _no_ , right now! She is going to sit here and she's going to study-"

"With you!" Dean exploded. 

And just like that, John knew he was right. Dean, at the very least, suspected what was going on. "Are you saying I don't look after Sammy?" He asked, voice dangerously soft.

Dean bit his lip, looking angry. 

"Thing about what you're going to say very carefully, son," John said. "Because if I don't like what comes outta your mouth..."

"Dean!" 

Both of them started, turning towards the door of the motel room. Sam stood there, just back from school, pale-faced. 

"Dean, I... You go on this one alone," she said, voice lower. "I'll be fine sitting this one out."

Dean looked confused for a second, then his eyes widened. "Sammy, come on-"

"No!" Sam nearly yelled. "No, I... I'll help... Dad... With research. And I've got a test tomorrow." She gave a determined little nod. "So go. You go and... Maybe I'll come on the next one."

John felt a smirk threaten to appear. Dean was helpless- he couldn't argue anymore without being more explicit in what he was trying to say. And Sam- sweet, protective Sammy who was so in love with her big brother- was doing this to protect him from John's rage. 

Well, at least, they watched each other's back. 

"You heard your sister, Dean," John said, glaring at his son. "Now scram. Watch your back and call me when the job's done."

Dean grit his teeth. But he knew when he'd lost a fight. Picking up his duffel, he grabbed Sam at the door, pulling her into a hug. "I'll be back soon, Sammy," he assured, eyes aflame as he stared at John over her shoulder. 

Sam nodded quickly, pushing him out the door. 

The roar of the Impala leaving was music to John's ears. 

Stalking forward, he gripped Sam's elbow, twisting a little. 

Sam winced, but stood strong. She'd grown the last few inches she'd had left, and now reached his collarbones. Still so small, so breakable, even though she really wasn't. On good days, she could even beat Dean in a spar. 

John leaned down to kiss her, biting her bottom lip until the skin broke. She didn't kiss back, remaining stubbornly frozen, but she didn't fight back either. 

"So, tell me," he said in a low gruff voice. "When were you going to tell me about the Stanford acceptance letter, huh, Sammy?"

Sam paled, blood rushing from her face so fast it was almost comical. "How-?" She cut herself off. 

John clicked his tongue in reprimand, thumb digging into the groove below her collarbone, making her wince. "Never mind how I know," he scoffed. "The important thing is: why did you ever think you could get away?"

Sam suddenly bared her teeth at him in a snarl. "I will get away," she vowed. "I'll get out if here and I'll take Dean with me too."

John laughed darkly. Sam would be lucky to leave the motel room for as long as Dean was gone.

* * *

Sam lay helpless, fruitlessly struggling, as her father- no, as John pressed down on her. 

It never got easier. No matter how often it happened, or how hard she tried to disassociate from the moment, there was no way to escape the large hands gripping her thighs, the rough stubble stinging across her soft skin, the burning heat slamming into her folds. 

"How many times... Do I need to tell you?" John panted harshly. "You're mine. My flesh and blood. My soldier. My sweet cunt to dp whatever I want." 

His rough palm squeezed her throat and Sam choked, both on a lack of air and on her sobs. 

Lost in the moment, neither of them heard the sound of the car pulling up. Neither of them heard the soft knock on the door, or the sound of the lock being picked open. 

It all happened too fast- there was a soundless yell of rage and the weight on Sam was suddenly pulled off.

She sat up, blinking dazedly, trying to comprehend the sight in front of her eyes. 

Dean had John pinned to the floor, hands wrapped around his throat. He was yelling, face contorted in rage, but Sam was too shocked to make out the words. 

Even as she watched, frozen, John bucked Dean off, flipping their positions and throwing a calculated punch. 

Blood spurted across Dean's face and Sam could only think _No!_

Her Taurus was in the small wardrobe. She scrambled to get to it. 

"What's the matter, Dean?" John was mocking with a sneer. "You jealous? You should be. Your sister's got the prettiest holes I've ever seen- that's all she's good for, anyway. But you want-"

Whatever he was going to say never made it past his lips. 

Sam pulled the trigger, her aim sure and her hands steady. 

John fell back, eyes already blank, face frozen on a raging taunt. 

For a few moments, everything was silent. Sam stared at her father's dead body. Dean stared at her. 

Then Dean was launching into action. He pulled out a scarf, started swiping at John's skin, removing all fingerprints and other evidence. Then he pulled her duffel out, starting picking up her stuff from around the room and throwing them in. "Get dressed," he ordered. 

She flinched. 

Dean stopped immediately, right next to the bed. His hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out. "Sam," he said softly. "Sammy, please, get dressed. We have to get out of here." He held out some clothes for her. 

Sam started shaking as she looked up at him. She suddenly felt 8, not 18. "Dean."

"It'll be okay," he swore. "We'll go to Bobby's, lay low for a while. You'll be okay."

Sam didn't really know what else to do- she took the clothes from Dean and walked to the shower on stumbling legs. 


	4. Chapter 4

14 months later, they were settled into an apartment in Palo Alto. Bobby had put them up in his cabin for almost a year, ever patient and loving in his gruff way. He'd only asked about John once when they'd turned up at doorstep. But Sam had flinched at the name, Dean hadn't tried to hide his hatred, and the elderly hunter never brought it up again. 

Sam healed slowly. The nightmares were almost gone, the last of John's marks on her faded away, and she was... Happy. Dean was glad, just as glad as he was that Bobby only had one extra bed for them to share. It made everything so much easier when he could curl up around her from behind, made it easier for him to breathe her in and feel her heart beat. 

When Sam finally worked up to mentioning college, Dean didn't hesitate to grin and say, "Hell, yes! Full ride ain't something to pass up on!"

Her blush and shy smile had only reinforced his decision. 

So, Bobby had helped set them up, promising to stay in touch. It was a small, two-bedroom apartment, and despite both rooms being furnished with their respective belongings, more often than not, Sam just slipped into Dean's bed. 

It was a good life and Dean realized he'd never been happier. He got a job at a garage, became his boss' favorite. Sammy spent her mornings attending all her classes. They made it a point to eat dinner together. Every weekend that Sam didn't have to study, they found a nearby hunt. 

And on the nights that Sam was just a little too tired, when her sleep was so deep that it would take a hurricane to wake her, those were the nights when Dean would take his own pleasure in her body. It helped that even in her sleep, she trusted Dean so implicitly. 

He wanted more, of course he did. He wanted her awake, wanted her to clutch at his shoulders and pull herself closer, wanted her to enjoy how good sex could actually be. 

He'd spent nearly four years content with her sleepy submission and pliant limbs. He could wait some more time. Just until he could work up the courage to tell her, to ask her. 

And, then, Sam had a date.

* * *

"I'm sorry, you _what_?" Dean asked, sounding disbelieving. 

Sam didn't quite look up from her homework. "His name is Jesse," she mumbled. "He's in my Intro to Psychology class. He asked me out at lunch today."

Dean didn't answer, quiet for so long that she had to glance at him. 

He looked frozen, staring at her with a blank face and dark eyes.

Sam felt a spike of concern. "Dean? Are you- is this okay?"

Dean started. He opened his mouth, looking for all the world like he wanted to say ' _no_ '. But them he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you sure?" He asked softly. "Are you ready to put yourself out there?"

Sam nodded slowly. "I have to at some point, right?" _And I can't keep pining after you forever,_ she added internally. 

Dean looked torn. "But you know you don't have to do anything you don't like, right?" He asked. "If he gets pushy, kick his ass, punch his lights outs- hell, cut his dick off."

Sam couldn't help a slight chuckle. "I don't think I'll need to. He's a very sweet guy, actually. But thanks, Dean. Don't worry, I can take care of myself."

Dean closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "Friday night, you said?" He asked in a quiet voice. "He'd better pick up. I wanna chat with him."

* * *

Friday afternoon, Dean decided he was officially his own second least favorite person. It was never more clear than when he mixed a light sleeping pill with Sam's coffee. 

"Why don't you take a quick nap?" He suggested. "Just in case your date ends up lasting longer." He said it with a teasing leer, but his heart felt like it was being shredded. 

Sam blushed. "You're an idiot. But yeah, I think I'll get a few winks in."

She'd fallen asleep quick, cuddled into Dean's side on the couch. Dean waited for fifteen minutes to make sure that the pill had worked. When he was sure there was no way Sam would be waking up, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bed, laying her down gently. 

Usually he was sure to keep her clothes on. Tonight, he didn't bother, slowly unbuttoning her shirt instead and manhandling her out of it. He pulled her shorts down too, exposing her trimmed curls and delicate folds. 

He sat back on his haunches, careful to keep his weight off her, and looked his fill for a few moments. She was going on a date tonight. Her first date. There would be a second, third, and so many more. How much longer did he have with her? A few months? A year, at most? 

And then she'd grow him out, would find someone to love more. But Dean never would. Sammy was it for him. 

So, if this was his last chance, he was going to make the most of it and commit her to memory. 

With that thought, Dean bent down and started giving kitten-licks to her nipples. He fondled her breasts as he laved at the pebbled skin, until they were spit-slick and her nipples hardened into points. A quick peek revealed her sleeping peacefully, only her breaths a little ragged. 

Emboldened, he crawled down her body and kissed her folds lightly, palming his throbbing erection through his sweats and massaging her ass. Her scent was strongest here, heady with a hint of sweetness. Hesitantly, he flicked his tongue against her clit.

A breathy little moan filled the small room. 

Dean felt his smile grow as he repeated the action, stroking her folds and licking in at the same time. He didn't go too far, knowing that causing her any sort of pain would give the game away, that Sam was too acquainted to the soreness and stiffness that came after sex to remain in the dark if she woke up with aching thighs. 

But he couldn't stop either, couldn't resist the taste of her as she started leaking, couldn't help lapping up every drop she unconsciously spilt. And all Sam did was unconsciously tilt her hips up, pressing herself onto his tongue. 

When Dean's jaw began to ache, he pressed a small kiss to her inner thigh, something in him trembling with want as he released his painfully hard cock, hiding his face in the crook of her neck as he pressed himself against her core, resisting the urge to push inside. 

With conscious effort, he rose up on his elbows, getting a good look at her. Her breaths were deep and ragged now, cheeks flushed, little hitching whimpers escaping. Her closed eyelids were fluttering fast and her rose-pink lips were parted so prettily that Dean wanted nothing more than to paint her face white.

Who was he kidding? This was never going to be enough. He wanted more, always would. He ached for it, so much so that the urge to slam his cock into her pussy and fill her up with his seed made him dizzy, made him want to rough her up like a cheap whore and take what he wanted from her, keep taking until she had nothing left to give, because fuck, he'd already given her too much of himself, would give her everything if she asked, and if he didn't get something back, what would there be left of Dean Winchester? 

For a long moment, Dean hated himself, hated how he could see John in himself. Then he carefully climbed off Sam, pushing her clothes back into place. He needed to finish up himself before she woke up for her date. 

**Author's Note:**

> Any prompts? Any suggestions to continue this? (Please no bestiality, pregnancy or water sports)


End file.
